


Late Night Ramblings

by e1evenc1ara (ThedosianScholar)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:44:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2352107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThedosianScholar/pseuds/e1evenc1ara





	Late Night Ramblings

Clara awoke to the feel of a palm resting just above her navel, her skin growing hot beneath its warm touch. Inhaling sharply with surprise, she glanced up to see the Doctor sitting in a chair next to her bed, his knees wide and his body hunched forward as he stared at his hand.

“Doctor?” she whispered.

His thumb brushed against her skin, making her shiver. “I…”

She waited for an explanation.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” he said finally.

That didn’t explain much. Clara curled the arm nearest him under her pillow, not sure what else to do with it when he was so close. “I’m fine, yeah. Are  _you_?”

The Doctor pressed his lips together and sighed heavily through his nose. Clara frowned up at him in concern as he removed his hand, her skin immediately growing cold at the loss of contact. He lowered the hem of her shirt and then sat back slightly.

“That was rude, wasn’t it? I’m sorry.”

Clara sat up slowly, not wanting to scare him away with sudden movements. “No, not rude.  _Weird_. But not rude. Answer my question.”

“I didn’t hear a question.”

“Are you OK?” she repeated instead of arguing.

He parted his lips and took a breath to respond, but then he just held it, his distant stare falling somewhere around her knees.

“I just wanted to see if you were OK,” he said dismissively, standing.

He wasn’t getting away with no explanation. Clara grabbed his hand and pulled, half-encouraging, half-physically forcing him to sit back down.

“Doctor, it’s a quarter to four in the morning and you’re sitting next to my bed just… touching me. Care to explain?”

“No, I really wouldn’t.”

“Do it anyway.”

“Clara…”

Her tone was more chiding than angry. “You can’t just sneak into a girl’s bedroom while she’s sleeping and stick your hand up her shirt without telling her why. Actually, you shouldn’t do that even  _with_  an explanation in your pocket, unless it’s understood between you and the girl that you’re allowed to. Which it isn’t.” She sighed at his continued silence. “Doctor…”

He covered his face with his hands, rubbing tiredly at what she could now see were red-rimmed eyes.

“I was feeling sad,” he confessed, like the fact that she’d wheedled this information out of him annoyed him greatly. “I wanted to see you… I just got my days and nights mixed up again.”

Clara gave a little nod. “ _That_  I understand. The part with you giving my belly a little love pat while I’m sleeping is more of a puzzle.”

He inhaled sharply and stood, his height strangely alarming until he moved away from her bed.

“I’m sorry, that was very strange. I’d like us to forget it.”

In three quick strides he was at her door, but he was slow to grip the handle, slow to pull it open, almost like he didn’t really want to leave. Clara jumped out of bed and crossed the space between them before he could make it through the door, her hands gripping his shoulders so she could spin him around to face her.

“Doctor, you’re  _worrying_  me.” Her gaze, her touch, and her voice softened. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

He bowed his head, which only stoked the flames of her concern. Clara blinked rapidly in surprise when his hands lifted to her shoulders. This was a gentle, uncalculated touch that slid behind arms, his fingers curling delicately against her skin. She could hear herself breathing.

“I’m an old man, Clara. An old man with many regrets, all of which I’ve earned.”

She just stared at him, waiting. He wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know.

“But when you collect so many, they start to overlap. Combat each other. Pulling and tugging until you don’t know what’s right anymore. Anything could be wrong…” He swallowed, his voice a mere breath when he added, “Or right. But it’s probably wrong.”

“I feel like I’m talking to the Sphinx,” she teased lightly, hoping to earn a grin from him.  His lips didn’t even twitch. “What’s troubling you?”

“I love you, Clara.”

Oh _._

She could hear her pulse thrumming in her ears like the sound of a tribal drumbeat. Her hands, which were still gripping his shoulders, slid a few inches down his arms when her limbs slackened in surprise. The Doctor’s gaze fixed firmly on her lips, or perhaps the centre of her chest; it was most decidedly avoiding hers.

An invisible hook lifted the corner of her mouth, but it fell like a curtain almost immediately afterward. She wanted to say something to break the silence, to lighten the mood, to give him even the subtlest hint that the emotion was reciprocated, but she was stunned into silence.

_Oh._

The Doctor released a shuddering breath that welcomed several more to follow; it was as if he’d been holding his breath since before she awoke and now that he could draw oxygen into his lungs, it was setting him into a quiet panic. He stood a little straighter and rubbed his palms up and down her arms, which were forced to lower to her sides with the motion.

“I promised I wouldn’t,” he continued after an unbearable silence. “But it’s not a choice like some people choose to believe.”

He lowered his hands to his sides. Clara could only stare at him, which was clearly making him uneasy, but she found herself looking at his face for the first time all over again.

This was the face of someone who loved her.

But she’d known that already. She just wanted to see how his words had changed it, deepening the lines between his eyes and around his mouth.

Emboldened by his declaration, Clara lifted her hands to either side of his face and pulled him close.

He immediately tensed. “Clara…”

“Shh,” she breathed before their lips met.

She shut her eyes and focused on the feel of him, his soft lips pursing ever so slightly against hers as his breath wafted against her. She knew his hands were twitching at his sides even without looking, so she reached for his right hand and brought it under her shirt to rest where it had been when she awoke.

“You wanted to touch me,” Clara said, fully understanding him now.

The Doctor nodded, his breath heavy. “That’s all I wanted.” He swallowed roughly. “But I shouldn’t.”

“I’d ask why, but you’d give me a rubbish answer,” she replied, keeping a firm hold on the back of his hand. He didn’t seem eager to retract it. “I like it.”

A strained sound caught in his throat, his fingers splaying against her belly as he licked his lips and struggled to find words.

“I shouldn’t.”

“Stop,” she said.

“Stop what?”

She moved his hand up higher to cup her breast and his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. “Cl-Clara…”

She stood on her tiptoes and caught his lips with hers once more, fighting back a grin at his  _mmph!_  of surprise. She unbuttoned his jacket and slid her hands underneath, her palms raking up and down his back over his shirt, fingernails lightly dragging. She almost started to panic when he didn’t respond right away, but then he kneaded her breast and his lips parted against hers.

Clara deepened the kiss, which was somehow both passionate and hesitant, their mouths open but their tongues refusing to touch. After a quiet eternity, the Doctor broke away and placed his forehead against hers while their chests heaved. Both of their gazes falling to where his hand curved under her t-shirt.

“I’m,” he breathed, then licked his lips and took another deep breath. “Clara, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Physically or emotionally?” she teased, even though her heart raced.

She placed her hand over his, gripping him to her through the thin fabric of her shirt, and closed her eyes as he muttered  _Both_.

“Probably too late for that,” she said. With a light smile, she looked up at him. “You’re not the only one.”

“The only one who what?”

She didn’t think she would be able to respond, but then a foolish sort of bravery gave voice to an answer. “The only one who feels love.”

It wasn’t the same as his declaration, but it was all her cowardly heart would allow. The Doctor’s expression shifted to something bordering shock, then relief, then disappointment. Clara continued to smile, even though his reaction threatened to make it waver.

“You’d be a fool to think otherwise.”

His fingers flexed against her breast. “Your heart is racing.”

She breathed a little laugh in reply.

“Might mean you’re lying.”

Clara shot him an impatient look. “Might not.”

His eyes lifted and fell from her face in a sheepish manner as he lowered his hand from her breast, but he didn’t cease contact completely. He lowered his palm to her waist and exhaled slowly as if to calm himself.

“Oh Clara, I really shouldn’t…”

She was tempted to shove him in the chest with frustration, but instead Clara heaved a sigh and asked, “When was the last time you slept, Doctor?”

He didn’t look at her as he gave a dismissive half-shrug. “I don’t need to sleep.”

“You say that, but I know it’s not true. You get really weird when you haven’t had some sleep in the past week. How long’s it been?”

He stared up at the ceiling with a huff of annoyance. “I’ve tried sleeping, but it didn’t work so I decided not to waste my time.”

“Are we talking one week, two?”

“… More like months, probably.”

She placed her hand against his face with another sigh, this one a mixture of sympathy and exasperation. “Oh, Doctor.”

“I tried…”

“I know. Come on.”

She pulled at the hand at her waist, leading him towards her bed.

He refused to move, a stunned look on his face. “What are you doing?”

“You’re coming to bed so you can get some rest.”

“What, with you?”

She grinned. “Yes.”

“But…”

“I’m not asking,” she half-teased, softly tugging his hand again. He followed.

His shoes and jacket were discarded on the rocking chair near the window. Clara drew him under the covers and lay on her back so he could nestle against her. She wrapped her arms around him and stroked his hair, her lips pressing against his temple as she murmured soothing words to help him drift off.

When his breathing grew slow and even, Clara shut her eyes and hugged him just a little tighter.

_What are the odds of you remembering this in the morning?_


End file.
